


the shroud of grey

by CaraMia



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Gen, I don't go here, Not Canon Compliant, literally i had no idea where this came from
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:00:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29340222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaraMia/pseuds/CaraMia
Summary: Late at night, Aelin contemplates a piano and humanity.
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien & Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien & Sam Cortland
Kudos: 7





	the shroud of grey

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know anything about Throne of Glass past Heir of Fire. I know this is wildly inaccurate to canon. Who cares?
> 
> the title is from a quote on the internet attributed to Om Malik: "I like the muted sounds, the shroud of grey, and the silence that comes with fog."

Aelin rested her hands on the cold keys and tried to divine which one would give her back her ability to play. Chill night air blew through the open window and her fingers would not move. She willed them to move, to pick out the song -- the only song she could play, really. They twitched not at all, as if remembering the weight required to press the piano keys was too much of a burden. It was as if her hand had been broken again.

Learning to play again had been excruciating. Even now, with her fae blood boiling in her veins, telling her how powerful she was, she lacked her former range and skill. She could play simplified tunes but only for a short time. The movement and strength required was too much and hurt her still human bones. 

She leaned forward slowly, until her head rested against the fall board and her hair covered her face like a shroud. 

“Well, this is dramatic,” said Rowan. She tilted her head so she could see him through her hair. He leaned in the doorway, perfectly sculpted arms crossed over his perfectly sculpted chest. He hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt and his skin tempted her to cross the room and take him back to bed, leaving the piano to its taunting silence. 

Any other night she would have. 

Tonight, his perfection merely served to remind her that he was otherworldly, fully fae and utterly alien. She saw his fae features as the warning they were: here is someone who could kill you and eat your heart in a breath. Normally she liked that: the reminder that he was as dangerous as she was. Tonight, she wished he had short, floppy brown hair and arms and a chest that looked comfortable to curve into, instead of like a statue. 

But then, that wasn’t fair to Rowan. He couldn’t be other than he was. It wasn’t his fault she was torn between two lives. 

“The fae do not have a monopoly on dramatics,” she informed him. Her hair blew away briefly from her face only to settle back into place and stick in her mouth. He stalked toward her, like an animal approaching an unknown. He’d given up the easy pose the doorway offered him without deciding on a new perch and hovered, unsure if she’d accept company on the narrow piano bench. She had been known to express her displeasure with knives. She waited, curious what this fae creature would decide, and half-frozen in half-remembered fear. 

Lacking a clear invitation, he settled into a soldier’s parade rest stance. She smiled involuntarily, surprised to see a creature of magic turn to a human stance. Well, she mustn’t let herself get carried away with metaphors: fae waged war on each other just like humans did. Wanting to improve the atmosphere more, inspired by her improved humor, she finally pushed down the keys her fingers rested on. The sudden discordant notes made Rowan twitch, which improved her mood even more. A human never would have noticed such a small movement in him. 

She sat up and swept her hair over her shoulder, scooting over on the bench so he could join her. He obliged and she tilted her head to rest against his shoulder, smothering her human instinct to flee danger. She’d had plenty of practice. 

“Did I ever tell you about Sam?” 

“Not that I recall.” 

She worked her way through the keys as she spoke, adding the piano’s notes as unnecessary punctuation. 

“He was a fellow student in Arobynn’s halls,” she knew Rowan was familiar with her erstwhile master. They’d spent several agreeable evenings planning and executing his demise. Making him break his own hand had been particularly satisfying. “He was too soft to be good at killing. Too much conscience. Arobynn kept him in debt; he had too much sense of honor and duty to run.” 

“He sounds foolish,” Rowan remarked, colorlessly. He worked the keys from the other end of the keyboard and they met nicely in the middle. 

“And he was in love with me,” she continued. Rowan smirked. 

“Doubly foolish, then.” 

She smiled, knowing he, at least, thought of her as a fae like himself. Human-fae relationships were usually intensely short-lived. Much like humans. 

“Perhaps. I didn’t know what I was then, not really. I was so focused on surviving. He,” she stopped, wondering how to explain to Rowan. “He inspired me to do more than survive, to be more than what Arobynn wanted of me. He was the first person since my parents’ death that I thought I might love.” 

“And did you? Love him?” 

Trust Rowan to focus on the least important thing. 

“Celaena wanted to. Wanted so desperately to be more. She was a hollow shell, one I shed long ago. But I find, sometimes, when the stars are out and I sit at a piano, that I miss that foolish human boy.” 

“Would you have been happy, to be human and loved by a human?” 

“No.” Her voice was firm. She knew herself much better now. “I would’ve always felt something was missing and ruined it by searching for an answer I couldn’t find. But still.” She closed the piano lid suddenly, nearly catching his fingers under it. “I am still some part human. And it is in a human’s nature to mourn for things they never really had.” 

Aelin stood and stepped away from the piano. Rowan didn’t move, watching her out of the corner of his eye. 

“Do you mourn the loss of the boy, or the loss of humanity?” 

She did not answer him, did not even stop on her way out of the room. Rowan thought she moved like a predator, searching for prey. 

**Author's Note:**

> Lysandra was also there. They horribly murdered Arobynn together. The first thing Celaena did with all her money from the king was free Lysandra from the massively creepy clutches of Arobynn.
> 
> Every fae creature should be disturbing to behold. I believe this in my heart.


End file.
